Facing the Facts

This back, a misused, wretched thing, holdover
From the days when my sort got around on hands
And feet, and spent our idle hours in trees, protests
The use to which I put it. "Walk upright? What's
Wrong with you? You're asking too much of my
Muscles. Bend, and feel the pain subside,
And recognize yourself at last. You're neither
Homo nor erectus. You are just an ape."



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 122 times
Written on 2019-11-19 at 01:45

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